Tuesday, April 24, 2012

For a Burn apply equal parts of white of egg and olive oil mixed together, then cover with a piece of old linen; if applied at once no blister will form. Or apply at once cooking soda, then cover with cloth and keep the same wet with cold water. This takes out the pain and prevents blistering.

Monday, April 23, 2012

Lindsey
Baker is intrigued by everything about the middle ages, but when she purchases
an antique mirror and a costume to attend a Renaissance Faire, she suddenly
finds herself transported back in time.There she finds she’s been called by a witch to right a terrible
wrong.

Graham
loves Prudence, but he can’t marry her because he’s landed gentry, and she is
only the baker’s daughter.Before
Lindsey can return to her own time, she must convince Graham to marry against
his father’s wishes.Unfortunately, she
also finds herself falling for the handsome gentleman.

Can she find her way back
to her own time, or will she be stuck in a time when women had no rights?

EXCERPT:MIRROR, MIRROR

“Fool-born child!Watch where
you are walking. The master will have your hide for getting mud all over his
clean shirts.”

Someone pulled her ear—hard—and Lindsey yelped with pain.She was tugged up into a kneeling, then
standing position, before she opened her eyes.She realized in the first moment she was no longer in Oregon.

“Where is your cap?If the
master sees you with your hair hanging down all over your face, he will switch
us both.”

She stared wide-eyed as a large, buxom woman bent down, picked up
dirty white shirts from the ground, and thrust them into Lindsey’s arms.

“‘Tis not here. Take my extra one.”The woman grabbed Lindsey’s hair, balled it, and shoved it into a long,
sleeve-like cap, which came to Lindsey’s forehead and fell down around her
shoulders.Balancing the load of shirts
with one hand, she felt the cap.Not a
shred of her hair was showing.

“Um, thanks,” she said.

“Well, donna be thanking me now.You just watch what you be doing next time, clumsy girl.Now march back into the washhouse and get the
mud off those shirts.When you have
finished, hang them out to dry. Then get you into the kitchen and help cook
with dinner.”The woman brushed her
hands off; then she smoothed her apron and marched through a courtyard toward a
large stone house.

Dumbfounded, Lindsey stood where the woman left her.She looked down at herself and saw she still
wore her second-hand clothes from St. Vincent de Paul’s.Her feet were bare. Then she noticed the woman
walking away from her was also barefooted.Despite the muddy courtyard, the air was warm and so was the soil.Butwhere am I?As she looked around, the structure of the
buildings reminded her of pictures from her British History course in college.

In the opposite direction from which the woman took, Lindsey noticed
a path leading to a small outbuilding.Smoke rose from a chimney.She
trudged back to the washhouse, opened the door but stepped back outside when
her eyes began to tear, and the heat blasted her face.Do
people actually work under these conditions?With the door opened, some of the smoke and
steam cleared, and she was able to see a large wooden tub sitting on metal legs
straddling hot coals. Lindsey dumped the load of shirts into the tub, picked up
a stick and stirred the load in the water.Before long, her muscles ached, and she had blisters on her hands. Once
the tears began, there was no stopping them.Until this point, she hadn’t thought much beyond putting one foot in
front of the other.She collapsed on a
small overturned crate and with head in hands, had a good cry.

With red, puffy eyes, and stuffed nose, Lindsey looked up when the
door opened.A wizened old woman leaning
on a cane shuffled in.She looked at
Lindsey with questioning eyes.“Is it
really you, Mistress?” she asked.

“What do you mean?Who am I
supposed to be?” Lindsey responded between sobs.

The old woman began to dance.“It worked!It worked!”

Lindsey wiped the tears from her eyes with the bottom of her
skirt.“What worked?” she asked,
realizing this woman might know what happened.

“Why
the summoning I did for Mistress Prudence.So you’re the one, eh?”The old
woman pinched Lindsey’s cheek and turned Lindsey’s face from side to side to
get a good look.“Well you do look like
the young Mistress.

“‘Tis the year 1421, and you need to get busy, little missy.You need to get the Master to accept Prudence
as his bride.Soon as you do, we can
send you back from whence you came.”

Lindsey stood and looked down at the little woman. “Just how do you
propose I do that?Who is this master,
anyway?”

“Why, he be the master of the house.He loves our Prudence, he does, but his father wants him to marry for
money.He’s just distraught our Master
is.I wager you be a smart woman. You
can get our Master to marry you. I canna help you anymore, but I’ll be watching
you.”The crone turned and shuffled
toward the door.

Sunday, April 22, 2012

No, my arms aren't tired. I traveled on a plane and met some very interesting people.

Most of the time when I fly, I sit beside people who don't want to talk. That's okay. But this time, I was blessed with people who wanted to share. Made some incredible contacts and the time on the plane went faster.

So next time you're some where and can talk to a stranger. Give it a go. You may discover a wonderful new person you didn't know.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Two college basketball players were taking an important final exam. If they failed, they would be on academic probation and not allowed to play in the big game the following week. The exam was fill-in-the-blank.

The last question read, "Old MacDonald had a ________."

Bubba was stumped. He had no idea what to answer. But he knew he needed to get this one right to be sure he passed.

Making sure the professor wasn't watching, he tapped Tiny on the shoulder. "Pssst. Tiny. What's the answer to the last question?"

Tiny laughed. He looked around to make sure the professor hadn't noticed then he turned to Bubba. "Bubba, you're so stupid. Everyone knows Old MacDonald had a FARM."

"Oh yeah," said Bubba. "I remember now."

He picked up his No. 2 pencil and started to write the answer in the blank. He stopped. Tapping Tiny's shoulder again, he whispered, "Tiny, how do you spell farm?"

Friday, April 6, 2012

Leave a comment for a chance to win a copy of my ebook - Youthful Temptations.

Winner will be announced -Monday April 9th.
Don't forget to leave your email address in the comment.

Single again, Linda Clayton is ready
to let loose and have some fun. Jilted at a party, she met a younger man, Vaughn
Reagan. He has an active imagination and allures her into his life by tempting
her with seductive games.

Vaughn is thrilled to find a woman who doesn’t
want children. He offers Linda a job so he can spend his days with her. Now, if
he could only convince her to forget their age difference and enjoy the nights
in his arms.

Thursday, April 5, 2012

When Ross Dixon is kidnapped from his office, along with the sexy lawyer who'd been busting his balls over a deal that should have been a walk in the park, he wakes to find a devotion chip surgically implanted in his brain. If that isn't bad enough, the chip, designed to trigger emotional reactions between him and the woman lying next to him, is working overtime on his libido.

Mistaken for Ross's flavor of the month, Kayla Michaels, a 22nd century lawyer, doesn't have a problem spending time in Ross's bed--or over his desk--but she wants no part in the romantic feelings the chip is provoking. She's been down that road before and ended up burned.

Kayla and Ross struggle to find answers while coming to terms with the constant lust sizzling between them, but along the way each wonders if the emotions are real or just a side effect of being hotwired.

Excerpt:Scanning the area, she saw the metal table beside the bed. A bottle of wine stuffed in a silver bucket, swam in water. Oxygen plugs dotted the wall above the bed. A nervous twitch pulsed under her right eye. “Oh shit, I think we’re in a fertility clinic.”Ross jumped to his feet, and then just as quickly sank back to the bed. He held his head in his hands. “That’s not possible. I’m wearing a patch.”

“Me, too, but we’re in some type of medical center.” Kayla stood and jerked the sheet off the bed on her way to the closet. She hit a button, and the enclosure opened. Her suit hung inside a cleaning unit, pressed and ready to wear. Ross’s clothes hung beside hers.

She turned and ran smack into Ross’s chest. His woodsy cologne and body heat blasted through her senses. A burning need for sex gathered quickly in her core.

He caught her waist. “Between the pounding in my head and the ache in my cock, I can’t focus on anything but you.” His gaze locked on her mouth. “I realize we don’t know each other very well but…” He eased closer, and his rock-hard erection hit her abdomen. “We must have had sex during the night, but for some reason I want you again.”

The seductive sound of his voice played over her skin like the pulsating beat of a sexual mu-vo. The music and picture of her favorite one flashed through her mind and her pussy clenched.

Unable to resist, Kayla released the sheet and the silky satin caressed her skin on its way to the floor. She stroked her hands through the curly hair on his chest. Need played across her nerve endings.

He licked his lips and whispered, “I’m sorry, but…”

His mouth claimed her in an onslaught of desire. The prodding demands of his tongue stole past her lips and into her mouth. Raw flavors exploded across her taste buds. Her head spun in dizzying circles. Hands, lips, tongue, all worked together to squelch her resistance.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Yesterday, I met with some writing friends. We got to talking about being a new writer.

The huge start-up for a new writer if they are interested in joining the social media world.
Which as a new writer that new to do so there name will get out there.

The question then became which ones are the most important. How many should they join? How do they do all of those things and write too?

Personally, I believe a new writer needs to pace themselves. They are entering a new world, one that is unfamiliar and should be enter with caution.

Yes, a new author needs a website, mainly because this is the place where people can go to learn about them.

Do they need it before a blog? Maybe, maybe not. Each writer is an individual. If they want to start a blog first then that's what they should do.

I guess what I'm trying to say is find the internet connections that you enjoy and explore those. Then add more, remember this like a journey into the unknown. Learn as much as you can and then enjoy the sights along the way.